The Final Cut
by Elora Demain
Summary: The beginning of seventh year at Hogwarts. What starts with a suicide attempt is turning to discovering that perhaps Harry's been wrong about some things. Chapt 3 now up. potential HP/DM.
1. Hogwarts Express

A/N: This story is inspired by the revolutionary manifesto by Jessica, "Why Harry & Draco - As if it wasn't perfectly, painfully, poisonously obvious." http://zoisite84.tripod.com/harrydraco/whyhd.html  
  
Certainly required reading for any H/D writers. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
The Final Cut  
  
Chapter One:  
  
As the Hogwarts Express pulled away from the station, Harry sat back in his seat and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Leaving the station was always a wonderful feeling, as it signaled the end of his horrible summer with the Dursleys and the beginning of a new school year.  
  
Ron was showing his pictures of his summer internship as "broom wrangler" for the Chudley Cannons to Hermione. He had applied to intern with them and had spent the entire summer travelling with them. Harry smiled to himself. He had a feeling Ron would be hard pressed to talk about anything about that for several weeks, but he was glad for his friend. Being in the middle of a large family, Ron rarely had anything this good happen to him. He needed it.  
  
He had already seen all the photos (twice) while waiting at the station, so he watched his two friends instead. But even though the train had just left the station, he was feeling hungry. Even after four years of his schooling at Hogwarts, the Dursleys still treated him like an ungrateful little boy. He absolutely could not wait until next year, when he turned eighteen, so he could strike out on his own.  
  
"Oh, Harry!" Ron said suddenly, breaking into his thoughts. "I almost forgot to tell you what I saw at the station before you'd arrived. It was too good… Draco Malfoy was getting the ear lashing of his life from Daddy Dearest.  
  
"I'd never seen Malfoy cringe like that before. 'If your grades do not improve,'" Ron continued, his mid-pitched voice forcing into a low gruff, " 'you will not be coming home during mid-term.' It was great."  
  
They laughed about it, although Harry felt an odd twinge of sympathy for his old enemy. He'd suffered through a lot of hellish reprimands from Uncle Vernon… and as nasty as Uncle Vernon could be, he couldn't imagine getting the same from Lucius Malfoy.  
  
"Hey, I'm going to run down to the trolley and grab us some food," he said to Ron and Hermione. "I'm starving… be right back."  
  
He opened the compartment door and walked into the corridor, closing it behind him. He heard the loud clickity-clack of the train wheels upon steel, much louder than usual. Looking down the corridor, he saw the emergency door was wide open and there was a cloaked figure standing in the doorway. The figure's hood was over his head, but a great gust of wind blew through the corridor and whipped it back.  
  
Harry wasn't sure what his brain registered first… that the figure's hands were clenched tightly on either side of the doorway, or that the figure himself was recognizable by that shock of blond hair. It took him at least two more heartbeats to realize that the grip on the doorway was beginning to relax.  
  
He ran and grabbed the hood of the cloak, pulling back with such a force that he and the figure fell back against the floor. The clacking of the train wheels seemed even louder, like the clattering of skeleton teeth in a nightmare. Harry pulled himself to his feet and pushed the emergency door shut. When he turned back, he saw an angry Draco Malfoy standing just inches away from him.  
  
"What the fuck did you do that for?" he said, his face seeming paler than Harry had remembered.  
  
"What the fuck were you doing?" Harry exclaimed, both angry and bewildered.  
  
Draco's eyes were bloodshot, looking as if he had not slept well for years. He had always been less stocky than his bulky, knuckle-dragging friends, but Harry was surprised to see that he was fairly gaunt. His cheekbones stood out against a porcelain face more fiercely, making Draco look pretty damn haggard.  
  
"What do you care, Potter." Draco said after a moment's pause, seeming to make a great show of brushing his robes free of imaginary dust.  
  
Harry was astonished. He knew he had seen what he had seen. It had looked as if Draco was about to jump out of the emergency doorway. But Draco's casual demeanor made it look like Harry had merely tripped him in the hallway.  
  
"You're right, I don't," Harry retorted, turning on his heel and striding in a way that he hoped look arrogant as he went back down the hall. He half expected a snide comment to follow him, but it didn't. When he reached the door to go into the next train car, he turned back briefly. Draco was gone. 


	2. The Sorting Hat Ceremony

A/N: If it isn't painfully obvious, the title comes from Pink Floyd's "The Final Cut."  
  
Chapter Two:  
  
Harry stared down the empty corridor for a moment before going into the next train car. What the hell had just happened there? Surely Draco had a flair for the dramatic; his sneering attitude was always so over-the-top. But the guy had looked, well, horrible. Don't be such a softie, Ron's voice in his head replied. Have you forgotten the last four years already? The problems with Draco hadn't ended after his fourth year.  
  
Every time something happened to put Harry in the spotlight, Draco had always been there to remind him that his fame was a borrowed cloak. All due to the scar. He had to laugh at that irony. More than once he'd wished he was an invisible face among the others. It wasn't his fault that he was famous before he even knew what it meant for his future.  
  
Draco always seemed to happen to be there the moment a group of giddy first-years were clamoring for his autograph. Last year, he had offered to tutor a group of Hufflepuff second years that were really struggling in Defense of the Dark Arts. Malfoy and his cohorts always managed to know where they were studying, even though he had purposely tried to meet in as many different places to avoid his jeers. When he had complained to Ron and Hermione about this, Hermione had given him a sideways grin and said, "I think Draco's your number one fan, Harry."  
  
He'd laughed. But then he wondered… was it uncanny that Draco was always there to kick him when he was down? Out of all the Gryffindors who would have been perfect for taunting, why Harry?  
  
"Can I help you dear?"  
  
He looked up suddenly, realizing that he'd been standing by the lunch cart in his flashback daze. He blushed and reached in his pockets for his money, ordering a handful of cauldron cakes. She smiled and handed him the food. He walked back down the aisle to the next train car, still thinking.  
  
  
  
Seven years. Seemed like just yesterday Harry had walked up to Professor McGonagall with shaky legs as she held the Sorting Hat to him. He watched as a similarly gawky boy sat upon the stool.  
  
"Gryffindor!" the hat hollered. Harry cheered and shouted with the rest of his table as the boy nearly ran over with relief.  
  
"Harry, do you ever wonder what your seven years of school would have been like if you had been sorted into Slytherin?" Hermione said, nudging him. He startled as if she had poked him with her fork.  
  
"What do you mean?" he said. He had told her of the hat's thoughts in his head, but it was the thought behind her question that startled him more.  
  
"Yeah, I know, perish the thought," added Hermione with a smile, thinking his startled features to be a reaction of horror of being placed in Slytherin. "But do you think the three of us would have been able to be friends, or would you end up a sneering, teasing git like Draco Malfoy?"  
  
"Really Hermione, that's awfully stereotypical of you," Harry said to her now-surprised face. "I mean, not all Slytherin are like Malfoy…"  
  
He was thinking of one Slytherin second-year that had joined the Hufflepuff study group. Harry couldn't remember her name, but he remembered she was painfully quiet and rarely spoke.  
  
"Nah, you're wrong Harry," Ron said, butting on the conversation as usual. "All Slytherin are the same. They may start out differently, but they're all power-mad and hungry to get their way. My Dad says…"  
  
"Your Dad has the hatred of Lucius Malfoy on his shoulders," Harry interrupted. "No wonder he hates all Slytherin."  
  
Ron frowned, spearing a piece of meat with his fork and gesturing with it.  
  
"You, of all people, ought to know why Slytherins are bad, Harry," he said, glowering as he snapped up the piece of meat into his mouth.  
  
Harry was about to retort, but the hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" once more and they all joined in the cheers and clapping, like a Pavlovian response, Harry thought bitterly. When the cheering stopped, Ron had turned to the new Gryffindor, already taking out his pictures of posing with various Chudley Cannon players. Hermione glanced over to Harry curiously, but then suddenly seemed very interested in her dinner.  
  
Harry looked over to the Slytherin table, just long enough to see Draco Malfoy turn away. As if he had been watching. 


	3. The Sorting Hat Ceremony, Continued

The Final Cut: Chapter 3  
  
A/N: Many thanks to the astute reader who noticed that I'd screwed up and put Malfoy at the Gryffindor table! Also, I want to point out that suicide is not the main basis for this story, despite the beginning or even the title. In case anyone is worried/eager, there's no incest either. Just good, painful fun. Grins Enjoy.  
  
Harry had only a moment to notice that Draco had turned away. Hermione was tugging on his robe sleeve.  
  
"This could be interesting," she said, gesturing over to the line of first years still waiting to be Sorted. "Look, twins."  
  
Harry shrugged, still more interested in Draco for the moment.  
  
"There's been twins at Hogwarts before, Hermione," he said, craning his neck to glance over to the Slytherin table. "Remember Fred and George?"  
  
Draco's back was turned and the Slytherin across from him was beginning to notice Harry's gaze. Harry shrunk back down into his seat.  
  
"That's not what I mean," she said. "Remember Mairead O'Leary? Not everyone goes where they're expected. Twins always seem to be sorted together, but you never know…"  
  
"I remember Mairead," Ron piped up, as the Gryffindor had politely lost interest in his photos. "You could have heard a treacle tart drop when the Hat put her in Gryffindor. Who would have thought the daughter of two Slytherin alumnus would have gone in a completely opposite direction?"  
  
"Holland, Emery!"  
  
McGonagall's voice rang out over the whispering crowd. The twins, a boy and a girl, had been holding hands nervously as they stood in line. They were not identical like Fred and George, but their features were similar enough to peg them as siblings. The boy released the girl's hand, her fingers reaching for her brother's hand in the air between them before it dropped to her side.  
  
The hall was silent as the young boy sat upon the stool, his gaze fixed upon his sister before the Hat fell over his eyes. Another girl behind the remaining twin tried to put her hand upon the trembling shoulder, but the girl moved easily out of her way.  
  
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Hermione whispered to Harry. Even he was taken by the tension in the Hall, watching the sister as she pulled away from the comforting hand.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat roared out. Those at their table cheered, but the cheering was brief as the next name was called almost immediately.  
  
"Holland, Elisa!"  
  
There was an empty seat to Hermione's left and she smiled to the new boy. His face was a mixture of relief and concern. He smiled briefly to Hermione, but instead of climbing over the bench to sit down, he sat upon the bench with his backs to the others. He wants to see what happens to his sister, Harry thought.  
  
The young girl walked up to the stool, her shoulders bowed as she turned to her brother. Harry felt the tension as palpable as the metallic taste in his mouth. He, too, had a stone in his stomach about the whole situation. It would go all right, wouldn't it? The Hat would place her in Gryffindor and they'd have two new first years to regale with stories.  
  
The girl sat upon the stool, suddenly straightening up as if steadied by the gaze she shared with her brother. It was deeper than a lover's, Harry thought, it was a lifeline. The Hall seemed to hold a collective breath as the Hat was lowered over the girl's eyes.  
  
"Please…"  
  
Harry heard the quiet murmur, a pleading, come from the young Emery.  
  
Minutes passed. Harry remembered how a moment under that Hat could feel like eternity. Then another minute. Harry looked quickly to Ron and Hermione. Ron looked as if he couldn't think of some kind of quip or comment. Harry did notice, however, that his fingers were crossed. Hermione's gaze moved from brother to sister, then back again. They all waited.  
  
Even McGonagall seemed perturbed by the wait. She looked as she was about to put her hand on the girl's shoulder and lean down, when the Hat spoke in a clear, distinct voice. It was not a triumphant yell, it was not a murmur. It was a declaration.  
  
"Slytherin."  
  
"No!" Emery jumped up from the bench and Hermione immediately reached for his arm. The entire Gryffindor table turned to see the outburst. Emery did not even bother to wrench away, but Harry saw from the shaking of his body that his voice was already thick with sobs.  
  
McGonagall seemed ashen-faced as she lifted the Hat from the girl's head. Her face was drained of emotion and she nearly stumbled as she slipped off the stool. McGonagall reached to steady her, but she slipped out of that comforting hand as easily as she had in the Sorting line.  
  
The boy's outburst had stilled the usual raucous outburst from the Slytherin table that would come with one joining their ranks. But as the girl stood, Harry felt the Gryffindors move their whispering glances to the Slytherin table.  
  
Draco Malfoy had gotten up from his seat and was standing at the head of the table. With one quiet motion, he raised his hand out to the girl.  
  
"That bastard!" Ron growled underneath his breath, shushed by a glare from Hermione, who was still holding onto Emery.  
  
To those who watched, it seemed as if there were two unseen pathways before the young girl. The Slytherin table and the quiet, wrenching sobs of her twin. She never stopped looking at the young boy, but she herself seemed as if she had aged in those simple moments. She looked wiser than the trembling waif that had shrunken under the Hat's heaviness. She looked as if to speak and the entire Hall quieted.  
  
"Emery."  
  
Her voice stunned Harry. It was not the pitched tones of a 11-year-old girl, it seemed the melodic song of a much older woman. Emery had sat back down on the bench, Hermione's hand upon his back, gently rubbing in consolation. Just one wrenching word came from him.  
  
"Elise."  
  
It was as if they were the only ones in the room. The exchange was more than their names, it was a parting of ways.  
  
Harry looked to Draco, his face impassive as he held out his hand. He still looked just as gaunt and strained as he had on the train. There was something else there, but he was too far away to judge if it really was there at all.  
  
The young girl turned from her brother and walked slowly to the beckoning man. Then, to Harry's surprise, Draco took her hand and pulled her slowly towards him. As soon as he did, she seemed mere child again and her own sobs joined the chorus of her brother's. Draco drew her in and she did not pull away. He stroked the girl's auburn hair, looking down upon her shaking form. It wasn't a lewd embrace, he was comforting her as Harry himself might comfort a first year too overwhelmed by their studies.  
  
The Gryffindor table began to spark angry comments.  
  
"That bastard, look at him… he couldn't be happier with this," one fifth- year said with a glare toward Draco.  
  
"Another one lost to the fold," his companion muttered, "It's a damn shame."  
  
"Please!" Hermione said with an equally angry hiss as she rocked the inconsolable boy in his arms. "Have a little consideration…"  
  
Harry couldn't think of what to say. He glanced over to the Slytherin table, but Draco was already leading the girl to the table.  
  
(to be continued) 


End file.
